Chapter 33: The Same Uniform

“Wow, Actor, dressed like that you really look like an actor.”

Sun-hyuk, who had been discussing something with the writers off to the side, approached Ji-tae the moment he found him alone.

He wore an almost artificially bright smile.

“Producer, not ‘like’ an actor. I am an actor.”

Ji-tae put on a completely soulless smile of his own.

Whenever he worked, it felt like the corners of his mouth would cramp from all the forced smiling.

Wearing a smile he didn’t mean was exhausting.

Still, there were too many eyes here.

It was better to carefully maintain how his relationship with Kwon Sun-hyuk appeared on the outside.

“Haha, right? Though earlier during the shoot you were pretty all over the place.”

Sun-hyuk laughed as he stabbed a dagger straight into Ji-tae’s chest.

Ji-tae bit his lip and shot him a look that said, How can someone be this cruel?

Sun-hyuk quickly glanced around.

Fortunately, the staff were busy adjusting the set for the next shoot.

The photographer was reviewing the shots and talking with the team.

“Hey. I told you to act professional.”

“I am professional.”

Oh really?

Producer Kwon covered his mouth and snickered.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit shameless coming from you? You didn’t even finish your interview earlier. Do you know how hard it was for me to clean that up?”

“……”

Ji-tae turned his head sharply away.

He knew he was in the wrong, but there was no way he’d apologize.

Producer Kwon sighed deeply.

He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t completely ignore the surrounding eyes.

“Go change. The next shoot’s about to start.”

“That’s the last one, right? Don’t drag it out too long.”

“Are you the producer?”

“You should think about Kang Woo-joo too. It’s not like he’s used to this kind of thing.”

Filming sounded simple in words, but in reality it was anything but.

From preparation to the long, grueling schedule, it was exhausting.

Standing in front of a camera, holding poses and managing expressions—it wasn’t easy if you weren’t used to it.

If the main writer didn’t get the cut she wanted, the shoot would drag on.

And when that happened, the staff would grow tired and sensitive.

All of that pressure, and you still had to act like it was nothing.

And Woo-joo wasn’t someone who did this often—he was an athlete.

Even if he was doing well so far, he’d surely get tired soon.

“I think he already looks tired.”

“Really?”

Sun-hyuk turned his head toward Woo-joo, who was heading into the waiting room to change.

He was laughing and chatting with the staff.

There was no sign of the emotion Ji-tae was describing.

“What makes you think that?”

“Woo-joo……”

Ji-tae lowered his voice as if it were serious.

“Yeah?”

“Woo-joo’s gotten rude.”

Hadn’t he just suddenly told him he was annoying earlier?

If he was rude enough to say that out of nowhere, he had to be tired.

“……”

Sun-hyuk didn’t know how to respond.

That reasoning felt far too personal to count as solid evidence.

“When Woo-joo gets tired, he gets rude. You know his face after a match?”

“Huh? How would I know? I’ve never seen it. Have you?”

At that, Ji-tae looked at him like he’d asked something obvious.

Especially when Kang Woo-joo played all sets as a starting member—

That was no joke.

Back in high school, there had been a preliminary match where Woo-joo played all three sets and they still lost.

When a senior setter from the opposing school made a snide remark about Daehyun High, Woo-joo had lifted his middle finger straight at him.

In sports teams, hierarchy was strict.

A junior didn’t dare act out toward a senior.

But when Woo-joo was exhausted, he broke that taboo.

When tired, Kang Woo-joo became sharp.

So it was better not to provoke him now.

Ji-tae reached that conclusion all by himself.

“Anyway, remember what I said.”

He brushed past Sun-hyuk toward the waiting room.

Left alone, Sun-hyuk thought about Woo-joo’s face from earlier.

It hadn’t looked tired.

It hadn’t looked rude.

But Ji-tae wouldn’t make something up for no reason either.

Then there was only one possible answer.

“Maybe he’s just rude to you, Ji-tae.”

Of course, that voice never reached him.

Kang Woo-joo felt perfectly fine.

He had worried slightly that this shoot might turn into a battle of stamina.

He wasn’t concerned about his endurance itself, but unfamiliar territory always carried uncertainty.

Yet surprisingly, he felt completely fine.

There was only one thing bothering him.

Woo-joo turned his head sharply inside the waiting room.

Ji-tae, who had been peeking from behind a wall, quickly withdrew again.

What is he doing? It’s annoying.

Woo-joo sighed.

For some reason, Won Ji-tae had been getting on his nerves since earlier.

“A-Actor, are you going to stay there? You need to change now……”

A staff member awkwardly smiled toward Ji-tae, who was half-hidden behind the wall.

“Ah, sorry.”

Ji-tae bowed slightly and walked back among the staff.

Watching Woo-joo in case his so-called “rude mode” showed to others had apparently gone too far.

While Ji-tae fought his own battle from afar, Woo-joo finished changing and stepped out.

The second outfit was, as expected, a volleyball uniform.

Short sleeves.

Shorts.

Knee pads.

Even volleyball shoes.

The writers had clearly paid attention to the details.

Naturally, this outfit felt far more comfortable to Woo-joo than the suit.

“Alright, let’s resume the shoot!”

A staff member called out loudly.

Woo-joo casually glanced toward the waiting room.

Ji-tae was walking out at that very moment.

“……”

Won Ji-tae was wearing the same uniform as him.

For some reason, Woo-joo couldn’t look away.

It felt completely different from middle and high school.

Back then, seeing him in volleyball gear had been normal.

Now, it felt strangely unfamiliar.

As if he were wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit him.

Woo-joo had never truly imagined it.

If Won Ji-tae hadn’t quit volleyball back then, what kind of player would he be now?

To be honest, he had thought about it before.

But whenever he tried to picture it, he failed.

The image just wouldn’t form.

And when he snapped out of it, he’d be left with a strange sense of self-loathing—

What am I even thinking about?

After that, he had tried not to entertain such thoughts.

“Player Kang, please step in.”

“Ah, yes.”

Maybe that was what he would’ve looked like.

If Won Ji-tae were still an athlete.

The two stood side by side before the camera again.

Back in school, they had always worn opposing team uniforms.

Now, they wore the same color.

The same design.

Like they were on one team.

The second shoot wrapped up smoothly.

The first had dragged a bit due to Ji-tae’s awkwardness, but perhaps Producer Kwon’s sharp words had worked—or perhaps Ji-tae had been worried about Woo-joo’s “rude mode.”

Either way, he handled it professionally, and they finished quickly.

After the main shoot, they followed the youngest writer’s guidance to take a few photos for the official SNS account.

That was when Woo-joo first learned Living Together as Two even had an official account.

“Wow, Actor, it must’ve been a long time since you wore a volleyball uniform, right?”

As things were wrapping up, that comment caught Woo-joo’s attention.

He turned and saw Ji-tae surrounded by staff near the waiting room.

The photographer was there too.

It seemed he had tried to slip away but got caught.

“Yes. I suppose so.”

Ji-tae nodded with a smile.

With the pre-release clip and even old Cheongryonggi match footage circulating, most people now knew about his past—

That he had been a promising volleyball player through high school.

“It must feel really different.”

“Hmm……”

Ji-tae only smiled at that.

Woo-joo stood at a distance, staring at him.

“It was a long time ago, so I don’t feel much about it. Honestly, a suit feels more comfortable to me now.”

“Well, time changes everything, right?”